


The Escape Velocity of Anxiety

by Pathologies



Series: One Shot October [5]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, two bros sittin in cockpits parsecs apart cause theyre not gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27279859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pathologies/pseuds/Pathologies
Summary: A question of remembrance.
Relationships: Wolf O'Donnell/Leon Powalski
Series: One Shot October [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991770
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	The Escape Velocity of Anxiety

The intimidating thing about space, an expert pilot realizes, isn’t the emptiness. It’s the distance. It’s the incalculable distances stretching from planet to planet, from system to system.

Dogfights were a game of holding dominion of small systems, with your main craft waiting to pull in once the victory had been achieved. Traversing those massive distances in your fighter was tantamount to a fool’s journey.

Of course, there was always the chance something went wrong. An error in navigation, strafing debris, extra-solar phenomena to set you off course. That was the risk and thrill of being a pilot, you never knew.

Wolf had pulled his head from his cockpit, still massively bruised from the sudden push and thump that knocked him out.

“Goddamn…” he growled to himself, tapping the gauges to check how close to screwed he was, “Damn Hilerian clients…” He mocked their voices, “’Oh yeah, the Carnifax system has some weird weather, but if it was a problem no one would live there!’ Yeah, only insane--”

He checked his peripherals. No sign of the Carnifax planet. He did get a nice vista of scrap metal floating aimlessly with his ‘how is this still running’ Wolfen. Usually the light of the system’s star should be bright enough to give you an idea where you were but….Carnifax was far as is.  
  


Wolf radioed in, “This is O’Donnell of the Wolfen. Anybody from Star Wolf, get off your ass, vacation’s over.”

It didn’t take long before he got a big panicked buzz, “What are YOU doing? You should be gloating over the spoils of victory, lapping the juices of your kill.”

Oh Wolf recognized that odd eloquence: Leon. He felt actual relief hearing the lizard respond for once. He laughed as he radioed back, “Not much celebratin’ to be done when I can’t make heads or tails. My bearings are screwed!”

There was a long pause before Leon responded, “How could you be so foolish?! Did you think anyone will look for us?!”

Wolf rolled his eye before he set out further on a hunch. It was much further along the path of space debris did Wolf see Leon’s ship: the Rainbow Delta. Worse off, too: it had one wing scored halfway down the middle with telltale lines of intense laser after-burn.

He replied, “Real smart. Real smart from the genius lizard who got himself a one way ticket in the space trash pile.”

But Leon always had a good retort, it seemed, “You’re supposed to be better! You needed to survive and live!!! Now the entire team will fall apart and there’ll be nothing left...”

This was certainly dramatic, “Nothing left of what?”

Leon responded, “Of me.”

“A little backwards, lizard.” scoffed O’Donnell, “You’re you. That’s how it goes.”

“If you don’t survive,” interrupted Leon, “Then I cease to exist!”  
  
“What?” asked Wolf.

Leon added slowly for Wolf’s understanding, “Only you know all of Leon: everything about me. You’ve remained the longest, you have the most accurate record. When you die, what is there of me than the dead and ones who moved on?”

Ah he got it now, “Leon….”

“Dying is acceptable,” the lizard, despite how logical he tried to make it sound, had a shaky edge to him. Maybe it was just the absolute zero…., “Being forgotten…I don’t want that.”

The team leader sighed, swerving his craft right next to the Rainbow Delta.

He radioed in, “Put on your helmet. Get in here.”

“There’s only room for one--” Leon objected.

“Get in,” Wolf cut off.

Soon Wolf had a nimble figure in a breathing helmet awkwardly sitting on his lap. Wolf felt their shakes right down to his thighs. Wolf knew for sure the cockpit was insulated against absolute zero. Delicately, he reached for the shoulders of this man, this deadly killer. A pilot who could snipe him from across a plateau in ten milliseconds if he tried.

But here this killer was, showing his fear across his back and tail. Maybe that’s why Wolf massaged it down, even as Leon flinched at first. But the chameleon relaxed to lay his back against O'Donnell's chest.

“This is weakness, I know,” objected Leon.

Wolf rumbled, now massaging the lizard’s obliques despite his complaints, “Weakness is only what kills ya. We’re not dead yet. I won’t die. I won’t let my memory die of you.”

Then something strange caught Wolf off guard. Leon asked, “Do you promise?”

Massaging, Wolf nodded, “Yeah, I do.”


End file.
